


Mornings With You

by surprisepink



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Crushes, Dragons, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: In times of chaos, peaceful moments with her love are precious.
Relationships: Guinevere/Miledy (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Mornings With You

She has spent her lifetime watching her kingdom fall into cold, callous hands and her family torn apart and yet Guinivere is, in a way, incomprehensibly lucky. Already there have been a dozen that she might have died, and there must be a hundred more yet to come, but for now she is alive, vigorous - and for that, she must be grateful. Today, too, she rises with the sun, and Melady, with a joy in her eyes that betrays the restrained dignity of her words and bearing, joins her in short order.

There is a certain hustle and bustle that she's come to expect during their journey, an organized chaos that permeates each new campsite. This is the life of soldiers, a far cry from the word in which she was raised, and yet there is a newfound comfort in it. Each of her new allies has a heart of gold, a will of iron, and even a group of meticulously selected combatants wouldn't have created the same unbreakable bonds of trust to be found within this ragtag army. She is safe here - safer, she realizes now, than she may have ever been before - and she is among friends.

Of them, Melady is the dearest of them all; Guinivere has known this for years and still she is reminded anew each day.

"Your Highness," she says, handing her a warm mug, coffee thick with cream and sugar to Guinivere's precise preferences. She'd once thought such gestures were a form of frivolity, a commitment to the satisfaction of a princess that could expel a member of her guard at any time. Now, it has become clear that they are a sign of the devotion that lies deep in Melady's heart, a commitment to the well-being of a friend, or a sister, or - if she dares to dream - a partner.

Melady never allows her to forget her status; even now, as they are forced by circumstances to share closer quarters, to see each other more often and in a notably more relaxed setting, she can't help but weave a tapestry of formality and intimacy, of old habits and new. Aware as she is that Guinivere has no need for such formalities, not with her most loyal companion, Melady has explained that such words are a comfort, providing a sense of normality in a tumultuous time. Besides, she added, one day Guinivere would be queen, and she would have to become accustomed to hearing such words in public.

"But in private, Melady. Won't you still speak to me plainly?" she had asked, and Melady had agreed. From there, there was a renewed agreement: that they would always be by one another's side, always be the most intimate of friends.

Guinivere does not remember when she began to desire something beyond friendship, a second intimacy that would run parallel to the one that she has. Perhaps her love for Melady had no beginning, just as it has no end.

That is the second reason she considers herself lucky: she holds this love in her heart. And Melady loves her, although she the finer points of Melady's love remain a mystery. One day, long after the war is past, she may ask; for now, small gestures must suffice, actions without words that hold her love in a thousand tiny ways.

They stand there together in a few minutes of blessed peace, time that they both know will pass quickly, that must be cherished as a precious part of uncertain days to come. Already all around them comes the sounds of supplies being transferred between tents, of blades being honed, of morning greetings and shouts of "good morning!" and "shall we spar today?" Melady breaks the quiet between them soon enough, already halfway through her own coffee, black, and ready for the next steps of her morning routine; Guinivere knows it well, and yet Melady always sees fit to inform her, just in case she's curious.

"I ought to tend to Trifinne, your high- Guinivere. Before that, is there anything you need?"

The princess pauses, sips her drink; the gentle heat of the coffee warms her throat in the chilly morning. She'd only had tea in the mornings back in Bern, yet adjusting to something stronger had been a surprisingly easy task. "May I come with you?"

It's a new request, one that has crossed her mind a dozen times but never reached her lips. Bern is known for its wyvern riders, their power and majesty creating a fearsome military, and yet the royal family barely interacts with them - least of all the women and girls. Bern's royals are proud; not being able to protect their wives and daughters, to allow their hands to get dirty, would be a disgrace. Now, Guinivere's hands have already been soiled irreversibly with the blood of battle and the dust of a life spent scrambling toward safety. There is no shame in it; she is filled with more pride than ever before, a pride not toward her nation but toward herself, and her allies.

Surely, then, working with a wyvern should be a simple task, a worthy next step in a quest to better understand her countrymen.

"Is there a special reason?"

"It's not a problem, is it?"

Melady scratches her head, accustomed enough to her lady's quirks. "It isn't very interesting, getting her ready for the day. Wouldn't it suit you more to fly with her after she's saddled?"

"I've done that before," Guinivere says. There are dozens of memories of doing just that, clear as day in her mind: her arms around Melady as she goads Trifinne on, each movement practiced and precise; Melady doing a surprise loop, hundreds of feet in the air and Guinivere squeals and giggles; the sense of calm she feels, no matter how rocky the flight. It's adventure and safety all in one, so long as Melady is there, yet it's not enough. "This time, I'd like to keep you company. I don't care if it's grueling, as long as it's with you."

She doesn't notice the faint blush on Melady's cheeks.

Keeping the army’s animals comfortable is easy enough; wyverns are hearty creatures, horses and pegasi less so but still fully able to hold their own when trained as warmounts. The lot of them are kept together, and Guinivere feels a pang of jealousy when she passes the horses, reminding her of how she misses her own in Bern. Perhaps it's a childish wish, wishing she could have brought along one of her ponies, trained only to let a princess take leisurely rides through meadows, but she allows herself this small bit of greed. Still, Trifinne is as good as a dozen horses.

Melady strokes the nose of her mount, still dozing even as the sun has fully risen. It's been a grueling few weeks, and neither of them can blame her for taking whatever rest she's allowed. Still, she'll have to rise soon enough; there's only so much time before they'll resume marching. Soon enough she's awake with a snort, soft for such a massive creature but still enough to create a warm breeze that causes Guinivere's hair to whip around. 

"Sweet girl, good morning!" Melady says, offering her an apple, which is accepted with what Guinivere recognizes as a cheerful bray. "She'll need a proper breakfast soon enough, but we all appreciate a sweet or two to start off with, don't we? Don't we, Trifinne?"

Guinivere's cup is almost empty now, but there's enough left to examine her reflection in it as she ponders the implications of being treated with the same approach as a wyvern. "I should have brought her something."

"She already likes you, no need to win her favor."

"I know, but..."

"Look, she wants to say hello."

Indeed, Trifinne is looking at her with an expression of expectation, at least insofar as wyverns are capable of facial expressions. She takes a moment to place her cup out of the way before holding out her hand to the creature, a habit from when her brother taught her how to properly greet an animal, even a friendly one. She's rewarded with a cursory sniff, then a series of gentle licks; they tickle, and Melady looks on as she giggles.

"You know, I thought she was frightening when I was small. I'm glad you taught me not to be afraid. You and..." she stops short, not wishing to allow the conversation to take a dark turn. Melady nods, understanding her worries as always, even without words.

"I've known her as long as I remember, so it was hard for me to imagine. But the two of you warmed up to each other quickly."

It was true enough; Trifinne had been companion to Melady's father before he retired from Bern's army, and as the eldest of his children who followed in his footsteps, she inherited her, as was common among families with generations of soldiers. They had met before she could walk, to encourage her to follow her father's path as much as to become closer to her father's companion. Not all soldiers saw their mounts as friends, but it was quite clear that he did, and she as well.

They had been young enough when they first met, Melady and Guinivere; her father's position in the royal guard had given her the privilege of having a fast track to the same position. Guinivere had greeted her newest protector with enthusiasm and a warm hug, much to Melady's surprise, but working up the courage to get near Trifinne took longer. When she had, though, she had found the wyvern to be as gentle as her rider.

"We did, didn't we? I didn't bring her a snack then either." They laugh together as Trifinne makes a nose that's a cross between a sigh and a whine, as if she understands their conversation. Maybe she does. "But you told her I was a friend, and that was that."

"If only it was that easy with people," Melady says, her voice unusually somber. "Wyverns are lucky in that way. There are no politics for them, no petty struggles between nobles. Only the people they know are friends, and learning to protect them."

"Melady?"

"...I'm sorry, I shouldn't speak of such things."

"No, I... I know what you mean. They join our wars, but in the end it's only because of a bond with their riders. But I think the reason she's lucky isn't that, it's..." she takes a deep breath, heart beating faster even though she's well aware her words will be interpreted as a declaration of friendship. "It's because she has you."

To her great surprise, Guinivere feels Melady take her hand in her own, and squeeze gently. She can barely hear Melady's next words, not because they're quiet but because it's night impossible to focus on anything but her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears.

"And we're lucky to have you."

They stand like that for a moment, Melady not letting go until Trifinne lets out another bray, as if telling them to move it along and take her to the dining tent for a real breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/seraphknights) for more... something.


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